That Damned Iron Curtain
by FromPrussiaWithLove
Summary: "From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic, an iron curtain has descended across the Continent." They, the stupid Allies, don't know what they've done. It bad enough they abolished one's existence, but a wall? Please review or criticize.
1. Abolishing the Prussian

**That Damned Iron Curtain.**

**Summary:** **"****From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic, an iron curtain has descended across the Continent. Behind that line lie all the capitals of the ancient states of Central and Eastern Europe. Warsaw, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Belgrade, Bucharest and Sofia, all these famous cities and the populations around them lie in what I must call the Soviet sphere, and all are subject in one form or another, not only to Soviet influence but to a very high and, in many cases, increasing measure of control from Moscow."** They, the stupid Allies, don't know what they've done. It bad enough they abolished one's existence, but a wall?

**Rating:** M, I have sadly conformed to the Germancest ways.

**Chapter 1: Abolishing the Prussian.**

It starts to fall apart in 1932. The Allies set up to abolish Prussia, effective immediately. Now, abolition is kind of like getting arrested and not coming back.

Gilbert kicks off his shoes; his head hurts from listening to Feliks talk about his stupid horse. _Stupid World War II, pain in the ass!_ Gilbert wanders into the kitchen and grabs a beer, just what he needs to clear his head. He sits at a table waiting for his brother to come home. He waits and waits and waits and _waits_, which is strange, normally Gilbert would've yelled "fuck it" and gone to a bar, but Gilbert needs to see his brother. He hears the _click_ of the door knob and tries not to jump to his feet. Ludwig walks through the door, throwing his keys at the counter, but the keys are thrown with such force that they almost stick in the wall. Gilbert notices Ludwig's hair is messy and unprofessional, and that is something of a concern on its own.

"Welcome home We~st!" Gilbert jeers, holding out a beer to his brother.

"Nein, Bruder, my boss has a big meeting tomorrow, and I can't be hung over for it." Ludwig replies, pushing the beer back into Gilbert's hands.

"But West, I thought I could at least enjoy one _tiny_ little beer with me, but no, West had to be a sober loser. Well, I have something to tell you! Just for that, I'm gonna go out to a bar, and cheat on you!" Gilbert sticks out his tongue, and he's _supposed_ to be the older brother.

"Nein! Bruder, that's a bit extreme!" Ludwig's face turns red, out of anger and embarrassment.

"Too bad, someone will wanna have a drink with me!" The Prussian's hand rests on the door, when Ludwig grabs it and pulls it towards himself.

"Nein, Bruder, I'll have a beer." Ludwig's face is red, still not used to this socially messed up relationship. He kisses Gilbert on the cheek, leaving Gilbert wanting more.

"Good." Gilbert hands him a beer. They both sit at the table and drink a beer, and Gilbert grabs more. "So, what's your boss calling himself now?"

"Fuhrer, he's getting a bit crazy, now. It's actually really annoying." Ludwig rests his head on his hands. His boss really drives him crazy.

"Well. West, all you gotta do is become with me." Gilbert informs as he leans over the table and pulls Ludwig closer by his tie. He kisses Ludwig, who really wouldn't mind becoming one with Prussia again.

"Bruder, not –" Ludwig is cut off Gilbert.

"Yes, now because if you're going to be one with me, it's now or never." Gilbert hisses.

"Bruder, you didn't let me finish! I was going to say, not on the table!" Ludwig's face turns redder. They wander to the bedroom, tearing clothes as they walk. Gilbert shoves Ludwig onto the bed; Gilbert growls as he crawls on top of his younger brother. He kisses Ludwig, trails from his mouth to his neck, and bites down to draw blood. "Hah, dammit, Bruder, my boss would kill me because of this.."

"Shut up, you hate him anyway." Gilbert snarls as he trails bite marks down Ludwig's chest to Ludwig's groin. His hand rests on Ludwig's growing need, as he moves back up to kiss his brother. "And you _love _this too much to just stop now, don't you?"

"Gil, stop teasing me." Ludwig whines; the phone rings. "Gil, Bruder, ignore it."

The phone rings. It continues ringing. Gilbert finally jumps off the bed and picks up the phone.

"Hallo?" He nearly shouts out of anger into the phone.

"Hola, mi amigo, have you already been told or are you in the middle of something?" The Spaniard asks, clearly Antonio.

"Been told what? Your timing is shit?"

"No, amigo," Antonio's voice drops to sullen whisper. "I heard the Allies talking at the League of Nations. They're planning something."

"What is it? And is it actually gonna happen?"

"They've abolished Prussia. It's no longer a country. I'm sorry, Gilbert." The line goes dead. Gilbert drops the phone, eyes wide, and for the first time the country experiences something he's never felt in his life. _Fear._

Gilbert's a country, regardless of what those pricks say. He grabs a pack of beer and climbs to the top of the house, on the roof. This isn't his house anymore. He doesn't own the land that he's worked for. He is the byproduct of too many countries and too little land.

"Hey, West! I'm not coming down, so just go to bed." Gilbert yells over the window of Ludwig's bedroom. He opens a beer and reflects on his 422 years of succession. _Damn, 422 years, but I couldn't last forever._ He reminisces on all the stupid shit he's done. He remembers when he scared the Holy Roman Empire because he had become so strong without them knowing; he loves the memories of when he stole that idiot Roderich's vital regions and held the upper-hand for so long. He laughs a little at how much shit he's put up with in the past few decades. Having to deal with Feliks is one of those things, he realizes that all this has gone to shit because he decided to have Germany unified regardless of what everyone else thought. He realizes that he's only twenty, and this is the end for him.

– –

February 25th, 1947, in the city of Berlin, the Allies sign the law that makes Gilbert loathe the number 46. They have already blamed Ludwig for the previous war, and now, they think they found the reason behind the rise of ignorants.

"Gilbert Weillschmidt, are you ready to hear your story?" The Allies ask, staring at him; it's all of them to take down one.

"..." Gilbert doesn't want to talk; he's got a killer hangover and a dry mouth.

"Article I: _The Prussian State with its central government and all its agencies is abolished. _Article II: _Territories which were part of the Prussian State and which are at present under the supreme authority of the Control Council will receive the status of Lander or will be absorbed into Lander. _Article III: _The State and administrative functions as well as the assets and liabilities of the former Prussian State will be transferred to the appropriate Lander subject to such agreements as may be necessary and made by the Allied Control Authority. _Article IV: _This law becomes effective on the day of the signature." _Every word pounds in Gilbert's brain. He fails, because they won. His red eyes follow every countries' hand as they sign him off the map. "Sorry, kid, looks like you belong to history now."

"422 years, militarism kept me together for 422 years, you think about that." Gilbert sneers.

**A/N:** This idea came into mind when I was in history and the teacher just stopped mentioning Prussia. After I had asked what had happened to the country, the class held a debate on whether it was right or wrong to strip Prussia of everything. I guess this is my total view. More to come, please review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove


	2. The Distance Is the Worst

**Chapter 2: The Distance Is the Worst.**

Gilbert isn't _real_ anymore, and now the Allies focus on Ludwig. Ludwig needs punishment as well, but they realize, from World War I, punishment for Ludwig isn't direct. Arthur and Alfred conjure up the idea; the idea that is made to hurt the German the most.

Gilbert holes himself up in his room for a day. Ludwig knocks on his door at least once every three hours. Gilbert doesn't reply. It gets to the point that Ludwig kicks down the door and finds Gilbert on the floor, just lying there. Ludwig lies down next to him, staring at his brother. His brother, who told him they were invincible and would never be beaten, is on the floor, dying of the embarrassment of not existing. Ludwig grabs his brothers hand and entangles their fingers. He kisses the back of his brother's hand. His brother sits up, red eyes swollen with more red. He pushes his brother on his back. Ludwig looms over his brother on all fours. He kisses his brother's lips, his cheek, his neck. All Gilbert does is mutter:

"Es ist aus." Gilbert tries to get up, but Ludwig refuses to let him.

"Bruder, we'll fix this, get you back on the map and all!" Ludwig promises.

"Halt den Mund, West! Es ist aus!" Gilbert rolls over on his side and stares at the wall. He gazes at the damage of one day of intoxication. All his flags lie in tatters from his anger and dissolution. He covers his face. _Gott, how the hell did this happen to _me_? _"Es ist aus..." He cries; that's a first. It makes him feel pathetic, but with his situation, there's no way to not act pathetic.

"Gil, we'll fix this." Ludwig kisses Gilbert's temple.

"Nein, West, they won. I know what happens next. They come for you, and that is what I'm upset about." Gilbert's never felt this ashamed.

"What do you mean? They learned from WWI that they can't punish me into misery."

"Yes, they did. West, they're splitting us up, and I have to go to Russia." His pulse goes cold. _That damned snow bastard; hell only knows what he's gonna do when I get there. But, it was me or West, and I don't want that sick shit's hands on West._ "Und, America, England, and France get to take care of you."

"But, Bruder, that's unfair!" Gilbert looks at his brother.

"Nein, we lose; we take the punishment. Since most of this is my fault, I get to deal with Ivan Braginski. You'll be fine. Francis Bonnefoy's weak as hell, since he was wiped out for almost the whole war. Arthur Kirkland's just recovering from our encounters during the Blitz. Alfred F. Jones will always plead neutrality, so he's a pussy who will never fight a war on his own land. Ke-se-se-se, West, you'll be fine."

"And what about you, Bruder?"

"Well, I suppose that the Russian has a hatred towards me, since I invaded his lands, only dozens of times throughout the past 422 years. It'll be interesting to see what happens."

"Will you keep in contact with me?"

"Probably not, you know how outdated the Russians are." His brother looks down in sadness; Gilbert kisses him. "But, hey, maybe they've got a working telegrapher."

"Bruder," Ludwig's tone demands Gilbert's attention, but he is distracted by the harsh knocks at the door. "Who is that?"

"Just break down the door; he doesn't need respect. Hon-hon-hon, this is what you get for invading my vital regions, 'mon ami!'" Gilbert's temper rages. _That douche! He sides with the Allies?_

"No, you git, there's such a thing as civility."

"Dude, don't depends on England for muscle; he totally lost all of that over the years!"

"Calm down, товарищ. Let me knock; they'll definitely let me in." Gilbert hears a knock, then the crack of wood, and finally footsteps.

"Astounding! Prussia really did have a sense of art, regardless of obsessive militaristic themes."

"No, the Prussian doesn't have a single taste in art; he just likes weapons and uniforms. _Degoutant._"

"I think, he's – like totally – badass. I mean I'd hate to get hit with that!" The American points to a sword, resembling the shape of a cross.

"Interesting blacksmith skill went into this. It holds religion and power."

"It's mine." Gilbert proclaims.

"Well, clearly, you sot!"

"I can see you're still going through menopause from me directing my attention on my brother, but I meant the skills to create a weapon like that are mine. I did it when I was young; a holy knight needs a holy sword." Gilbert's hands run over the blade.

"Bet you totally kicked ass!"

"Would you like to know what a sword like this does to the victim? Not only does it impale; the horizontal blade rips apart the enemy and pulls out their entrails when pulled back. Ke-se-se-se, why do you think your old dummkopf is so afraid of me? They called me the Second Reich, and that dummkopf, Hitler, wished so hard to recreate _me_! The Awesome Prussia!" Gilbert chokes on the surprise of the wind being knocked from his lungs.

"Kol-kol-kol-kol, I'll have fun breaking this spirit." The Russian smiles grabbing the cross shaped off its stand.

"LET GO OF ME YOU SCHNEE BASTARD!" Gilbert kicks furiously trying to break the man's leg.

"My товарищ will love you, so spirited." The Russian's smile grows larger.

"Look who I found, ha-ha-ha, which makes me the hero!" The American appears at the bottom of the steps with Ludwig's hands cuffed behind his back.

"Stop being a wanker, and bring him over here!" The Brit commands.

"If you don't mind, I'm bringing him back to Россия now." The Russian announces as he drags Gilbert behind him.

"LET GO OF ME, YOU SCHEIßE!" Gilbert tries to hold his ground.

"Gilbert?" It pains Gilbert to see the fear and confusion in his brother's eyes. "Wait, Ivan, take me instead."

"Hmmm," the Russian thinks about it; Gilbert dreads the answer. "No, because I don't want to punch you in the face as badly as I want to slaughter Prussia." Ivan smiles at the thought; Gilbert is happy that it's not Ludwig dealing with this psychopath.

"Besides, Ludwig, we think you're smarter than your sot of a brother, so we're watching you till you get back onto your feet." Francis walks over to Ludwig and kisses his cheek. "Look at the bright side, you'll be able to see Italy."

"Ok." Gilbert feels a pang of jealousy. It's obvious that Ludwig has some sort of feeling towards Feliciano Vargas, and it seems to differ from the love Ludwig shares with Gilbert.

– –

Gilbert rubs his hands together. He lives fairly north, but this is just insane. He's happy when Ivan drags him into a building which is only a tiny bit warmer than the world around it, but Gilbert isn't in a complaining mood. Ivan guides him to a room and ties him to an overhead pipe; Gilbert watches the man leave. It's better than Gilbert thought was going to happen. He makes himself as comfortable as possible and sleeps. Sleep is all that can console him. West is in his sleep. West and Feliciano are in his sleep; he suddenly feels more alone than ever. His brother, would he ever move on past Gilbert?

**A/N:** I didn't know how to go about the separation, but yeah, Russia's gonna have a lot more to give to Gilbert than a rope to a pipe.

~FromPrussiaWithLove


End file.
